


Fallout

by RetrobrandWheeljack



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sparklings, Unplanned Pregnancy, ratchet is a grandad, sideswipe has sads but damn if he won’t raise his kid good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:52:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetrobrandWheeljack/pseuds/RetrobrandWheeljack
Summary: Sideswipe just needed to know that it was possible, even plausible, for a sparkling to  grow on a half spark. He also needed to know whether the emotionless, stick up his aft second in command wanted anything to do with it.





	1. Catch feels

Prowl’s character and personality in this fic is heavily dictated by how he is in IDW/MTMTE. Obviously there will be a lot of growth, but for the most, ( no spoilers for his change of heart ), he’s as cold sparked as most think he is. 

Or is he?

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

~~~~~

The first datapad arrived on the 1st cycle of 06.

It looked no less like the datapads he used for work, and Prowl originally gave it no thought as he let it sit on his desk amongst the growing mass of energon cubes and other reports. 

The courier had told him that there was a return address- a vague one-but no designation.

It’s delivery was a surprise- he didn’t give his personal pigeon hole to just anyone- but it wasn’t work, so he left it at that. 

When Prowl did end up reading it, however, bored curiosity turned into the greatest strain, and irritation, he’d ever felt on his battle computer. The mech, who’s identity Prow vaguely remembered (the mentions of ‘Maccadams’ and ‘Fall of Praxus’ barely helped him remember the specific situation the mech rambled on about) had sent him what was essentially a baby call in a base where anyone could have picked it up and read it. 

Read Alert in particular had a habit of checking mail before it was delivered.

The great thing about being the second in command was the privacy. He had his own office, his own quarters, and his personal business was respected. 

Whoever had sent this message- one that Prowl originally thought might have been from Tarantulas- had access to his private mailing box. 

But a single letter, with no spark scans or any additional information about the /sparkling/ that the mech claimed was growing inside of him because of his own ‘stupid spike’, didn't make Prowl inclined to believe him. 

The datapad held an air of hysteria- only thinly contained by the Autobots (Prowl prayed it was an Autobot) apathy. He was straight to point about his situation, but didn’t mask his anxiety about his future very well. There was no designation, only the almost offhanded offer at the end of the paragraph telling him he’d be willing to share any information about ‘their’ sparkling if he was interested. 

Prowl frowned.

He read the letter again.

And then again.

It was almost believable.

“It’s yours if you want it. If you even remember me.”

It was signed with an S.

Prowl marked it as Miscellaneous, and deemed it unprofessional that the mech chose to write with his own hand rather than printing it out digitally. His messy, but put together scrawl rushed out the age of the new spark nested inside of him, as well as a query about carrying mechs in the war. Whether he had been in a rush when writing it, or if he just had bad handwriting, Prowl didn’t know. 

His sympathy waned. There wasn’t many carriers around anymore, or sparklings for that matter. 

He scrolled down, checking for anymore impromptu announcements, before tossing it in the bin. 

An idiotic prank, most likely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second datapad arrived exactly two orbital cycles later.

Prowl stared.

Once again, there was no digital message sent through the Autobot networks, but another datapad. 

It sat neatly on his desk, once again without a subject- which originally had given reason for Prowl to put it at the bottom of his ‘to read list’- and forced a tense silence throughout his office.

Even more so when he realised just who the mech was.

His relationship with him had been on and off. No strings attached- usually under the influence of high grade. Prowl hadn’t even known how he knew his name, let alone how he knew where he been stationed.

Prowl rapped his fingers against the datapad, glaring at the S the mech had signed it with. He blithely told Prowl that he didn’t know whether to keep it, and asked for his own opinion.

This time there was a scan. 

The new spark was tiny, obviously still growing and in its early stage of sparklinghood. 

The second in command couldn’t bring himself to care too much, as much as he felt the probing anxiety that this /might actually be true/. It wasn’t his problem, it couldn’t be his problem-whether the sparkling was born or not, he probably wouldn’t have much to do with it. Even if a small part of him hung onto the thought that Primus /it could be his/.

S hadn’t provided any coding proof, which still allowed his processor to give him a decent percentage against the likelihood of it being his.

Prowl didn’t respond to the message, but the mech stayed in his thoughts, as did the sparkling he claimed to be harbouring. 

Whether it was really his or not, still rolled uncomfortably in his tanks. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You’re an idiot.”

Sideswipe rolled onto his side, tank empty but still curdling in a way that made him want to throw up. He grunted his agreement, and shuttered his optics off.

The room was too bright, and his was brother was too loud.

And bossy.

“It’s going to kill you,” Sunstreaker said officiously, watching his brother curl into an even tighter ball on the barrack’s berth.

He was lucky there was no one around.

Sideswipe didn’t reply. The little ball on his spark was a painless love, but draining to his half spark. He knew it wasn’t big enough to support a sparkling, but the tiny thing was a soft presence /attached/ to him that evoked a kind of unconditional love he had only ever felt with Sunstreaker. It was bizarre, and terrifying, and when he focused on his spark hard enough,he could feel its gentle, but foreign and weird, thrumming. 

A subtle reminder that he would soon be a liability. 

“You have to get rid of it,” Sunstreaker said, gently this time. 

“What? You don’t want to be an uncle?”

“Not if it’s going to deactivate you.”

Sideswipe frowned. 

“You never know.”

There was a moment of silence, Sunstreaker staring at his twin with an unreadable expression. ”Actually I do. And so does every medic we’ve been too.”

Sideswipe scoffed. “One medic, who you threatened to disembowel if he told anyone.”

“You’re welcome.”

A part of him knew the consequences of a raising a sparkling during a war, but another part of him wanted to hold it in his arms and- he shuddered- cuddle it. 

Carrying was making him sentimental.

“And you need to stop sending those datapads.” Sunstreaker scowled, “He obviously doesn’t care.”

Sideswipe shrugged, “He has a right to know.”

“We’re talking about the same mech, right? He’ll prioritise work over anything.”

As much as Sunstreaker wanted his brother to be happy, he needed to know the reality of his situation.

Sideswipe sulked.

“You don’t know.”

The air whooshed, and a soft blanket drifted over him.

“I’ll cover for you this shift.”

“Thanks.”

Sunstreaker nodded, sending a push of reassurance over his bond before he moved over to the door.

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I wanted to keep it?”

His brother sighed. 

“Then we’ll need a better medic.”


	2. New

Sideswipe barely had any time to analyze his choices regarding the little spawn growing tirelessly next to his spark before both he and Sunstreaker were relocated.

Most medics had moved to aiding the factions, and left their clinics behind. Which meant there was little chance of finding a medic that would look at him, and leave his situation undisclosed if he wanted to do something about it.

Even if he wanted to keep it, the Autobots wouldn’t exactly be supportive of a frontliner carrying. It was too much of a burden.

Their relocation allowed him some distraction, though, and kept him from driving himself insane with the lingering thoughts of how much the newspark would cost him and Sunstreaker.

He also decided not to hover around the fact that they had been moved even closer to Prowl.

Which, despite his best efforts to be decisively apathetic about his sparklings sire, still poked at his spark anxiously.

Not that either twin cared about residing at a new base, with new commanders (who were all the same stiff, ugly bastards who tossed out their grunts to do the dirty work before even thinking about contributing).

War was war, and fighting was fighting, no matter what frontline it was on.

Prowl, however, was lingering in his thoughts no matter where he went, or what he did.

He blamed it on the newspark, and not the strange emotions that were continuously whirling around and making his tank feel queasy.

Sunstreaker claimed that he liked the slagger, and was an idiot for it, but Sideswipe was vehement in his argument that their relationship was nothing more than a fling.

And that the newspark was an unfortunate accident.

An unfortunate accident that had been taking up all his time and energy.

The thing was needy, relentless in its irritating attempts to make him pay attention to it. The thing made his energon levels drain faster than any ruptured tank could ever hope to. Sunstreaker had given up his rations more than once for him, and Sideswipe could all but feel the anxiety rolling off his brothers spark.

They both knew that his situation would only become more difficult.

And despite how much of a _burden_ he had begun to feel, he still caught himself feeling… joyful over the little spark. The majority of his thoughts were captured by the slagger that was nestled comfortably next to his spark, and he couldn’t help but feel content with it.

Sometimes.

Other times he wanted to rip it right out.

His conflicted thoughts followed him to Iacon- the best off of the cities- where the command element wasn’t much different from every other Autobot authority.

Except for the medic, who called Sunstreaker a slagger the moment the two had stepped foot into the medbay for their first checkup.

Sideswipe instantly liked him.

And despite his unholy nature, there was no dissonance amongst the mechs that ended stacked up in his Medbay. It was a simple, flat harmony that seemed to keep the injured in an agreement that putting up a fuss was inane. It made the absolute chaotic, but still put together, environment of the medbay one of Sideswipe’s favourite places to be.

Unlike that fragger Smokescreen. One Deca-Cycle and he had already tried to cajole a frag out of him. Sideswipe declined, but the Praxian was adamant on hanging around.

Even after Sunstreaker shoved him straight into an unsuspecting minibot.

So avoiding Smokescreen has been added to his do list, along with worrying about Prowl, his lack of response, and the newspark that was steadily growing.

It would have been easy to ignore, if it wasn’t so adamant on making itself known. 

Already it had begun to affect his scheduled duties around the base. Ultra Magnus hadn’t taken kindly to his newfound dizziness, or the urge to purge at certain smells. Sideswipe suspected that even though he had emptied his tanks right onto the commanders pedes, Ultra Magnus was more angry that he had messed up inventory after almost passing out.

At least Ratchet had given the commander a good yelling. His respect for the medic had grown tremendously from that moment, even if he was bombarded with questions he’d rather not answer.

Yet still, no one suspected thing.

Or at least, he thought no one did.

——————-

“So, do you still want it?”

Sideswipe scowled, and hunkered down further in his chair, optics flickering over the remaining mechs lingering in the room.

The mess hall was fairly empty, but that didn’t mean they were completely safe from eavesdropping.

“I don’t know.”

Sunstreaker returned the look, digits flexing anxiously around the energon cube he was holding.

“Well, you need to make a decision. And soon.”

“It’s not that easy, Sunstreaker.”

“And besides,” Sideswipe continued, optics flickering tiredly, “I haven’t heard back from… you know.”

His twin snorted, “So? You waiting for his permission? It’s your body.”

Sideswipe sighed.

Sunstreaker still didn’t quite understand why he was so adamant about Prowl knowing. He didn’t want to keep the sire in the dark, even if it meant risking outing himself by sending the messages.

It was important to him, and he was sticking by his decision.

“What if he wants it?”

“Sideswipe, I don’t know much about him, but from rumour, I’ve gathered that he cares about work, himself, and not much else.”

“Those are just rumours,” Sideswipe hissed, “Besides, he was nice enough that night.”

Sunstreaker scoffed, “Yeah, because he wanted to get laid.”

Sideswipe went to respond, frame flaring defensively, but Sunstreaker’s expression went flat, and he jerked his head towards the door.

Ratchet was standing at the entrance of the mess hall, and Sideswipe would have been happy to see him, if the medic hadn’t been glaring a hole right in his direction.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

The frontliner swivelled back in his seat, mouthing angrily at his brother as he ignored the heavy footsteps stomping their way.

“Sideswipe,” Ratchet began, frame looming over the table the twins had settled themselves at, “Can I talk to you for a klick?”

Sideswipe frowned, processor already flicking through anything he had recently done that could have incited the medics wrath, before rolling his head to gaze up at Ratchet’s optics, narrowed and far from resembling the placidness in his tone.

He took a good, long minute to think about his reply.

“No.”

Ratchet’s digits twitched.

Sideswipe ignored the warning tug on his spark, along with the urge to kick his brother under the table.

The life on his spark pulsed, underdeveloped but a.. comforting presence he still wasn’t used to. Whether the extra strain was a normal side effect that all carriers experienced, or just another wonderful bonus of being a spilt spark, Sideswipe didn’t know.

“It’s not debatable,” Ratchet growled, optics flickering to where Sideswipe’s hand had risen to rest over his chest plating.

“Then don’t phrase it like it was.”

Another harsh tug pulled a frown from Sunstreaker, and prompted him to send a wave of support at his twin.

The little spark was doing the equivalent of swimming, bouncing around as much as it could from its place next to Sideswipe’s spark. How something that hadn't even formed a protoform, or a proper processor, could hold so much expression and emotion was beyond him.

“Well?” Ratchet asked impatiently.

Sideswipe blinked, feeling slightly dazed.

“I said no?”

He sent Sunstreaker a questioning look, suddenly doubting his own memory. “Did I?”

Sunstreaker nodded, and crossed his arms, “You did.”

“Consider it an order, then.”

‘He so knows’.

Sideswipe scowled, chest tightening with both his own anxiety and the sparklings, who’s mischief had quieted with the sudden whirl of negative emotion from both twins.

‘You don’t know that.’

A brief trickle of amusement trickled over their bond, but before Sideswipe could even latch onto it, Sunstreaker snapped it back abruptly , E.M field flaring in surprise at the strange sensation of a third reaching out towards it curiously.

Sunstreaker scowled, clutching possessively at the affection that was usually reserved solely for his twin, before he nodded stiffly at the medic.

The scrap of Sideswipe chair, pushed roughly out from underneath him with more force than necessary, drew a few curious stares, which went ignored as the frontliner stood, E.M field drawn tight to his frame.

Ratchet watched them suspiciously, hand gesturing to the doorway to let Sideswipe through first. A tight smile was thrown his way, sour with both the medic and frontliners distaste. The door slid shut behind them, and the two were left alone in the hall.

“Medbay. Now.”

“But-“

“ _Now.”_

_____________________

Sideswipe thought he had seen the medic at the height of his holy wrath when he and Sunstreaker first attempted jet judo. It had been their second day after being relocated, and they were lucky enough to jump into battle from the get go.

There was yelling, cursing that soured even his tongue, and a foul look of anger that twisted the medics face into a scowl worse than Sunstreaker’s.

Now, though. Now was different. Sideswipe could feel the rage boiling off Ratchet’s E.M field. His face was blank, optics flat as they gazed at Sideswipe impassively.

“You’re an idiot,” Ratchet said coldly, after what had felt like orns of sitting silently, waiting under a piercing gaze that didn’t let up no matter how much the frontliner fidgeted.

“For?” Sideswipe asked cautiously, inching slightly away from the medic.

The action didn’t go unnoticed. Ratchet took a step forward, expression still neutral.

“You think I wouldn’t notice? You think any medic with a processor wouldn’t notice?”

Now the panic was starting to set in. The nervous itch swirling around his spark grew bigger, twisting at his fuel tank as he sent an impulsive thump of anxiety across the bond to his brother.

Sunstreaker responded instantly, spark thrumming a ball of protectiveness across the bond.

‘Want me to come down there?’

Sideswipe didn’t shift, or give any indication that he was talking with anyone, optics still gazing into Ratchet’s own intense stare.

‘No.’

He paused, ‘Primus, Sunny, I think he knows.’

‘He’s a medic, Sides.’ A nudge of affection was sent his way, before Sunstreaker retreated.

The frontliner schooled his expression. “Notice what?”

Ratchet didn’t react to the caustic undertone, unsubspacing a datapad with a flat hum.

There was a spark scan on it, it’s fluctuations spiked wildly, but there was no mistaking the small, bundled whirl of energy attached to the right side of Sideswipe’s abnormally small spark.

“Here,” Ratchet grunted, and tossed if the frontliner.

Sideswipe caught it easily, mouth drawn into a tight frown as he studied the scan closely.

“You’re sparked,” Ratchet said simply, and crossed his arms.

The understatement of the year.

Or the understatement of the small amount of time he had been here.

The medics in Praxus had never noticed. But now, he must have gotten overly confident. Confident that the lack of sparklings around would have made the subtle symptoms go right over any mechs head.

He’d barely been there a deca cycle and he and his sparkling had already been exposed.

“Who else knows?” Sideswipe asked quietly, clutching the datapad between his fingers harshly.

“Just me.”

Ratchet didn’t exactly feel inclined to tell anyone else. It wasn’t their business.

“But this is a… tricky situation.”

“Obviously,” Sideswipe scowled, E.M field wrapped numbly at his frame, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I know you’re not. In fact, I think you’re quite smart, Sideswipe. But this? Getting knocked up in the middle of a war?” Ratchet seethed, “You’re a frontliner, for slag’s sake! Fighting with a new spark is-“ He ventalited shakily, digits rubbing irritably at his temples. “You could have easily lost it.”

Sideswipe’s spark clenched, optics avoiding Ratchet’s gaze to instead glare at the spark readings. He felt sick. He wanted nothing more than to curl under his berth, preferably with Sunny, and forget everything.

“Still don’t know if I want it,” He mumbled, feeling acutely miserable under Ratchet’s stare.

“So you’re not denying it?”

“What’s to deny?” Sideswipe muttered, tossing the datapad away with a grunt.

Ratchet sighed, and studied him for a second, spark softening.

Sideswipe was a warrior. A soldier meant to shoulder through the worst of the frontlines, not carry an innocent sparkling that could be detrimental to his half spark.

And now he looked defeated, slumped on the gurney, the datapad showing the life growing next to spark lying forgotten beside him.

He was an idiot for not telling anyone.

“Well,” Ratchet muttered, laying a gentle hand on the sulking mechs shoulder, “you can’t abort it now.”

Sideswipe jerked his head up, optics wide and _scared_ and looking very much like the young mech he really was. “What?!”

“It’s too far along, I couldn't remove it without hurting your spark.”

“But-“

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Primus, he hadn’t seen a new-spark in years. They were rare, forgotten and entirely ignored during the outburst of the war. He had almost missed the tiny, extra spark beat thumping steadily next to Sideswipe’s own. It should have been obvious, now that he thought about it, with the way Sideswipe’s E.M field thrummed with anxiety when Ratchet was fixing him. A carriers natural instinct when someone was poking around their spark chamber.

It was growing fine, but its lack of size suggested the absence of a sire to offer sustenance.

Ratchet crossed his arms, and eyed Sideswipe, who had retreated into his thoughts, hand absently rubbing at his chest.

“Who’s the sire?”

Sideswipe frowned, “What?”

“The sire. You got a designation for me? Are they on this base?”

If he was on the base, Ratchet would need to have a… talk with them.  Though Sideswipe didn’t hang around anyone that could have given the medic an idea about their identity. He was friendly with most mechs, but generally only hung around his twin.

Ratchet frowned.

“Well?”

It would have been much easier if the little spark spawn had already emerged. Code testing was much more simple than needling the most evasive, sharp (and cunning when he wanted to be)  mech Ratchet had ever met, for answers.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not here.”

“Where is he then?”

Sideswipe ignored him, “Can I go now?”

“Not yet.”

Ratchet ignored the groan, unsubspacing another couple of datapads, stacked orderly as he shoved them into the frontliners arms.

The sire would be revealed eventually. Or at least, Ratchet hoped he would. Going through that alone would be hard enough.

“And these are?”

“About sparklings. How to raise them, and how to safely carry one. No drinking, for starters,” He said sternly, eyeing Sideswipe warningly.

Sideswipe grumbled, but didn’t protest. He tucked the datapads into subspace, and stood.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“I can give you time off-“

“No,” Sideswipe said hurriedly, “I don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

Ratchet frowned, “You’ll have to take time off eventually. Too much strain and activity could be detrimental to the sparkling.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

The frontliner moved past him, E.M field still burning with trepidation, but he was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, kid.”

Sideswipe frowned.

He had Sunstreaker. But his brother knew as much about new sparks as he did.

And Ratchet, even though he now knew, could easily tell Ultra Magnus, or anyone in the command units.

What would happen to him and the newspark, he didn’t know.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

It came out as a whisper, despite the reassurances he was trying to utter to himself.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Sideswipe offered the medic a small smile, the newspark pulsing happily, drawing out and playing with his own sparks emotions.

At least, even without his twin and the medic, he wasn’t completely alone.

His sparkling spinned, happy despite it’s carriers turmoil.

“Deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me so long to write. I kept picking at it, and re-writing at because I just wasn’t happy with it. But I hope it’s alright to read! Though updates will be slower because this year is an important year for schooling. 
> 
> But I’m really having fun with writing this. I’m already playing with little oneshots about the sparkling after it’s emerged. You can find those on my side blog on tumblr, Tfortransformertiddy. 
> 
> I don’t use that blog much because it’s just for writing, but I will try to be as active as I can on it.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl’s character and personality in this fic is heavily dictated by how he is in IDW/MTMTE. Obviously there will be a lot of growth, but for the most, ( no spoilers for his change of heart ), he’s as cold sparked as most think he is. 
> 
> Or is he?
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
